Bleeding fingers
The air is so dry here in New Orleans and we are not used to it. And I’m not used to washing my hands 100 more times than normal because I’m always cleaning up after Tin. So my hands are cracking and bleeding. No lie. It’s painful. Well that and I grabbed a pot directly out of the oven last night. Don’t ask.
I had Tin on my back, my Ipod was playing my country mix, I was making a big pot of red beans, roasted root vegetables, cooking butternut squash and making him polenta and somewhere my feeble mind went take the pot out of the oven without a mitt. I screamed bloody murder and Tin started crying.
So we stopped and danced to Little Sparrow by Dolly Parton.